


take pride in what is sure to die

by muppetstiefel



Series: nothing new about this rage [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Hargreeves is Dead, Good Sister Vanya Hargreeves, Grief/Mourning, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, One Shot, POV Ben Hargreeves, Sharing a Bed, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, everyone else is mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muppetstiefel/pseuds/muppetstiefel
Summary: “Happy birthday Ben,” she would whisper into the darkness.“Happy birthday, Vanya,” he would whisper back.Ben spends every birthday with Vanya. He spends the first four after his death running from her.





	take pride in what is sure to die

Ben spent every birthday with Vanya.

When they were younger, it was tradition to be inseparable. She would creep into his room at midnight, armed with hoarded snacks and cocooned in a blanket. Then, she would crawl into bed next to him, wrapping her thin arms around him.

“Happy birthday Ben,” she would whisper into the darkness.

“Happy birthday, Vanya,” he would whisper back.

And the next morning they would sit across from each other at the breakfast table, their secret cupped in their hands.

Later that night, they would all sneak out to Griddy’s in their pyjamas and sit in their booth and eat until they felt sick. And Diego would always eat too many donuts and spend the night bouncing around on sugar. Allison would always hold Ben’s hand on the way back to the academy, Klaus would always slip a new comic book under his door when he was sure Ben was asleep. And Five would always reserve one compliment for each of them, for that day.

They all had birthday traditions. Yet he treasured the one between him and Vanya the most.

At eleven, Vanya lay rigid, a sea apart from him. The tradition felt tight and formal, the uttered “happy birthday” straining in her mouth.

At thirteen, Vanya cried and cried and didn’t stop. Ben held her through the sea of tears. Her “happy birthday” was a watery one.

At fifteen, Ben spent his birthday alone. Vanya lay miles away, in her dormitory or in the arms of someone else, but certainly not with the boy who she used to call her best friend as she cut his hair.

And then at seventeen, its Vanya’s turn to lie alone.

Yet, Ben is still more alone then she’ll ever be.

The traditional comes to a rather sudden and gruesome end. Something about being shot to pieces then severed apart by your own body puts a dampener on birthdays. Ben realises that pretty quickly.

He dies just as autumn begins to colour the trees. He makes no attempt to uphold a tradition deader than himself and spends his first birthday, just a month after his death, wandering the city. He hitches a ride with a young couple in a cab. Watches a woman drop a bottle of wine in the middle of the road. Sees a boy hold on to his sister’s hand. Feels nothing but numb, empty, and alone.

He spends the second birthday after his death sat in a toilet cubical. Klaus is hunched over the basin, holding onto it with both hands, expelling something from his system. His shoulders are shaking, but its just as likely he’s laughing as he is crying so Ben leans back on the cubical wall.

“Just think positive thoughts,” he suggests, too far emerged in the day to give serious advice.

Klaus answers back with a choked “fuck you.”

“You know,” Ben tries, knocking his head gently against the wall, “it might be nice to spend your birthday sober for once? Visit family? Go see dad?”

Klaus sits back, scrubs at his mouth, and spits out, “you’re one to talk. How’s Vanya?”

Touché, Ben thinks.

Their third birthday is a little more upmarket. Klaus pushes himself into a two-week stint of sobriety that extends into their birthday and they spend the day at a local ice cream parlour. It’s not Griddy’s- the walls are painted pastel blue and it’s too clean- but it’s nice enough. People are staring at Klaus, who is talking to thin air, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Ben doesn’t bring up home. Klaus doesn’t bring up Vanya. And it works. 

Their fourth birthday is the worst.  
The motel they’re staying at must not feel particularly festive around Halloween because they find themselves on the street just the night before.

The winter is already encroaching and the cold weather bites at Klaus’ skin. His coat is too thin, all see-through mesh and faux feathers. And he’s too thin, all sharp lines and ribs and hair falling out in clumps.

They find themselves back at the academy.

“It’s a shame,” Ben comments dryly as they wait for an eternity, “that I can’t burn this place down.”

Klaus just laughs. “I’ll do it for you.”

Nothing is out of place and yet everything is. The winding staircase still sits, undisturbed, but Allison isn’t running up it, looking for her shoes. The table is undisturbed, no Five sitting cross-legged on top, surrounded by books. Diego’s room is cleared out and Luther is firmly shut away behind his own door. 

And there’s no Vanya. No sweet violin melody or carefully coloured birthday card. No knee high socks and fringe covering her eyes. No snatch of laughter, or secrets shared under the covers.

Ben stands in her empty shell of a room.

For the first time, he mourns for himself.

Klaus finds him, the epicentre of a ghostly quiet storm around him.

“Pogo says we just missed her. She moved out a week ago.”

Ben sniffles. “Good for her.”

The year passes without much change to a well-established ghostly routine and on the fifth birthday Ben finds himself outside Vanya’s flat. 

He knows the route by heart, walks past at least once a week to watch her from a distance.

She keeps the curtains well drawn but sometimes he’ll catch a glimpse of blue, a snatch of violin music or the soft-spoken sound of her singing.

He never goes in. the reasons change, day to day, but after a year he holds a well-established list. 

1- I don’t want to watch her (that’s creepy)  
2- It’s not the right time  
3- What if she can secretly see ghosts and I freak her out  
4- She’s not ready  
5- I’m not ready

His most important reason is reserved for the bottom of the list.

6- If I see her my heart will shatter into a thousand pieces.

He thinks it’s pretty good reasoning.

Yet somehow, something makes his feet move up the steps, through the door and down the hall. Its vacant, empty and dark, and so very Vanya.

He finds her in the kitchen. She’s buttering toast but she keeps slipping away from the task, regressing into her own head. She looks different up close, Ben observes. The lines in her forehead seem to be carved there, deep and vast. The fringe is gone, replaced by a ponytail which meets at the back of her neck. She keeps stopping her task to wring her hands together, or gnaw at her fingernails. 

And she’s crying. A barely noticeable sheen to her cheeks, tears trickling slowly but consistently.

She can’t see him, but Ben keeps his distance.

She eats her toast. Scrubs the kitchen clean. Lets the noise of the TV she is not watching fill the room. She doesn’t touch her violin. That’s a clear Bad Day sign. And she doesn’t stop crying the whole time.

Ben wishes she could hear him. His mind overflows with things he wants to say, revolving at such a pace that he can barely sit still. I’m sorry, would be number one. Are you okay? How can I help you? Do you still talk to anyone from The Academy? Because you should talk to Klaus more. I know you call him sometimes, but he needs you. You need him. I need you.

Instead he sits, silent as a ghost, and watches Vanya cry into her whiskey.

Later, he crawls into bed next to her. She curls in on herself, as leaving room for him. Like she always leaves room for him. And together they lie, Vanya’s breathing him the closest to piece since his death.

Through the darkness. “Happy birthday, Ben.”

“Happy birthday Vanya.”

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I'd write more Ben and Vanya!!
> 
> This was hard because I love them so much and it hurt to write this!! Also hey Umbrella Academy fandom, where is all the love for characters other than Klaus lmao. My best rated/read fics are Klaus heavy ones and I feel like we need more love out here for the other sibs!! I read an amazing Luther fic the other day and it didn't have nearly enough love.
> 
> Anyway, I have maybe another four fics planned for this series and then I'm bringing it to an end!! It's been an amazing ride but it has to end sometime!!
> 
> Stay tuned for the final few fics!! And maybe a poetic interlude to tie the whole thing up!!
> 
> Title taken from Truce by Twenty One Pilots (a throwback tune)


End file.
